


Shades of Blue

by Shapooda



Category: Bleach
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mood Ring, enemies to lovers speedrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 16:35:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shapooda/pseuds/Shapooda
Summary: Grimmjow is wearing shades. Ichigo is determined to find out what he's hiding under there.





	Shades of Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murderlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderlight/gifts).

> Big thanks to Murderlight for the idea. I forget how it went down, but it was definitely a twitter thing you started, so here it is in your honor. It's been on my mind for months, like a big gay ghost, and I've been in a rut and I needed something short and fun ~ 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy ; v ;
> 
> ~~Big thanks to Owari26 and Kryptodragon for beta reading ; v ; and suffering my broken af keyboard

“KISUKE! I swear to God, next time you try to pawn your unstable hollow killing _ shit _ off on my sister I’m-–Grimmjow?”

“Pretty sure you’re too ugly to be me,” the arrancar snarked.

Kurosaki blinked, brain stumbling drunkenly over just what the hell he was looking at. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?” 

Mouth turning down in annoyance at the sudden shift in conversation, hands came out of pockets to clench into fists at his sides. The blue-haired Espada's wrinkled brow still betrayed his typical scowl, but his eyes were completely concealed behind huge movie-star-esque shades. “Why the fuck is that any of your business?”

Ichigo stared with unsettled fascination. It was like seeing a cat in shades, but that cat had put them on, all on their own. “Who gave you sunglasses?”

“One more question and I’m going to break your face.”

“Why are you even-” Ichigo barely dodged a fist that came flying for his face, the arrancar’s fist taking a chunk out of Kisuke’s front door. “You crazy asshole! I’m in my human body!”

Grimmjow pulled his fist free from the splintered edge of Kisuke’s door and Ichigo got a glimpse of blue eyes, before the ex-Espada was facing him again. He snapped, “If ya can’t dodge a punch after I gave you a fucking warning then maybe you should find yourself a different profession.”

Ichigo inhaled to argue, and Kisuke beat him to it. “Ahhh, perfect timing, Kurosaki-saa~aan!”

Ichigo watched Grimmjow out of the corner of his eye and was suddenly wary of both of them. “Perfect timing for _ what _?” He didn’t trust Kisuke as far as he could throw him, which was ‘not at all’; he wasn’t stupid enough to try to touch him.

The shopkeeper gave Grimmjow a rough shove between the shoulder blades with his cane, resulting in a spitting mad arrancar, but Kisuke didn’t seem to notice or care. “I can’t work with so many interruptions, and the deal is any arrancar in human world can only remain under strict supervision. You’re a substitute shinigami, you’re more than qualified for the job, so I’m leaving him in your capable hands.”

Blinking stupidly at Kisuke, Ichigo thought for sure he misunderstood. “Did you just make me a babysitter?”

“Escort,” the shopkeeper corrected.

“You can’t be serious,” Grimmjow growled. “I’m not going anywhere, least of all with a male prostitute.”

“Hey!” Ichigo barked.

“You’re fixing this so I can get the fuck out of here,” Grimmjow threatened Kisuke. 

Kisuke chided, “That’s going to take time and some quiet, so if you please.” He herded them out of the shop, both too stunned to argue. He waved them goodbye as if they were setting out on their maiden voyage and slammed the door in their face.

Ichigo blinked, then kicked the door. "Hey! I had plans!"

Grimmjow muttered, “Couldn’t have been that important if ya came all the way across town to ream him.” 

Spinning on his heel, Ichigo defended. “He gave my sister _ grenades _.”

“Cool.”

Ichigo squinted, appalled by the arrancar’s stupidity. “_ Not cool, _what the fuck is wrong with you.”

The frown on the arrancar’s face twisted into a sneer. “Let’s see; I’m dead, I’m a hollow, and I have to follow you around so the perv can jerk off.”

“First of all,” Ichigo said, “Never say those words again.”

“Jerk off."

Ichigo scowled at him, and came to the dismaying conclusion he was stuck with the arrancar. He considered where to put him. It was like being saddled with a large and aggressive dog. He didn't want to keep him in public, he could potentially hurt someone. That and he'd look like a psycho arguing with thin air.

"Keep staring at me and I really will break your nose,” Grimmjow said.

“Stop threatening me.”

“Can’t tell me what to do Kurosaki. Especially not in a pathetic, fleshy body.”

Well, on the other hand, he'd get a chance to figure out the shades perched on the face of this asshole. They didn't compliment him at all, they clearly didn't belong to him, and he clearly didn't like them on his face in the first place. People usually wore shades indoors when they were hiding something. A black eye, red eyes, drunk…"Are you high?" It was a probing question, one Ichigo was unsure of.

The arrancar's jaw went lax in shock, then bunched, tightening in anger. Grimmjow cracked his knuckles. "Do I _ look _ high?"

If he kept going without a chance for Grimmjow to cool off, he really was going to end up with a broken face. He wasn't a pushover in his human body, but against an Espada that wanted to hurt him? Probably better not to push his luck. 

“Okay, fine,” Ichigo relented. “You’re coming to my house.”

From behind black shades, Ichigo could only guess what was going on in the arrancar's head, but he said nothing, and Ichigo was waiting for the complaining and the arguing. Oddly, it didn’t happen. “You just gonna stand around like a retard?” Grimmjow growled.

Ichigo could feel the sneer on his face. Again with the insults. “Whatever.” He turned to head home, some part of him wondering if it was super stupid to lead a deadly arrancar to his house, but then he remembered how shitty he was at reiatsu control; the arrancar could probably find his house from space if he wanted.

The long walk back to his house was hot and a little bit awkward. He’d never had to interact with the ex-Espada outside of a battle, and it seemed they were both painfully quiet outside of an argument or a battle because neither of them had anything to say.

After a while, among the screaming of cicadas and blinding pavement, Ichigo thought the silence had become somewhat more companionable. Or maybe he was projecting. He did glance back once or twice to be sure the arrancar was still there, and he still couldn’t get a read on him through those big, stupid shades.

His curiosity had reached peak levels by the time they made it to the clinic. He briefly considered just slapping them off Grimmjow’s face, and after entertaining the thought, he realized he’d have done it, consequences be damned, if he thought he was fast enough.

They were just shades. Sure they looked stupid, but why did it bother him so much? Why did he even care? He couldn’t pretend he didn’t, but that benefited nothing but his own ego.

Letting him into his house, it was as quiet as he assumed it would be. His father was picking up supplies from the hospital, and his sisters were off doing whatever it is sisters did on a Sunday. They told him, but he thought they might be lying. They lied to his face when they thought he might worry. He did it right back at them, so he couldn’t even complain without being a massive hypocrite.  
  
That left the house still and quiet. It was almost too warm, but with nobody home, there was no reason to run the AC. Which meant he should open a window. Which meant taking the arrancar to his room. That shouldn’t be a big deal, he’d had all sorts in his bedroom. Enemies, shinigami, friends, family. Now an arrancar?

“Average.”

Ichigo looked back, eyes flicking to his mouth like that might betray his mood. The arrancar looked...disappointed? Disgusted? Ichigo wasn’t sure, it wasn’t like he’d ever looked at his lips before. “What?”

“Yer house. It’s average.”

“What were you expecting?”

“I dunno,” He snapped, sounding frustrated. “Yer some arrogant, hotshot shinigami."

Ichigo brows fell. "You think I'm arrogant."

Grimmjow bared his teeth, definitely an aggressive expression. "You think yer better than me."

"That's what you think? Still?"

The lack of a response more than answered his question. The silence was awkward again. Grimmjow stood stock still, stubborn, and even if he couldn’t see his eyes, Ichigo thought he’d be glaring. Deciding he was done feeling awkward in his own fucking house, he said, "It's hot, I'm going to my room." He didn't need to announce it, but it broke the silence. 

Grimmjow had no commentary for that, reluctantly following him up the stairs to his room. The metallic clack of his boots on wooden stairs was a sound he'd never heard in his house before. It made it very obvious just who was following him up to his room. Was he scared of the arrancar? No? Maybe. He was kind of nervous. 

The second he was in the room, he slid the window open, clicking along the track. A warm afternoon breeze ghosted over his skin and at least negated the feeling of being trapped in a closet. It was still hot, but now it was tolerable. 

Leaning back off the bed, Ichigo gestured at the small space. "I'd say to make yourself at home, but I'm not sure what that entails."

"Rude, Kurosaki." The arrancar's hands were shoved in his pockets again, turning a small circle in the center of his room. "How fucking old are you?"

Ichigo frowned, throwing himself back into the chair at his desk. "Twenty four. Why?"

Grimmjow gripped the neck of the guitar in the corner, probably feeling how loose and unused the strings were. "Looks like a room for a teenager."

"I got busy," Ichigo snapped.

"So busy you didn't touch the shit in your own room?" Grimmjow mocked.

Irritation tightened Ichigo's jaw. "_ Yeah _, I guess so." Nobody had ever brought it up, but Grimmjow was right. His room was almost a carbon copy of how it was when Rukia had been dragged back to soul society. He spun to face his desk, flipping open a book to pretend to read. All of his attention was on the arrancar at his back. 

“Busy with what?”

“Are you being intentionally stupid?” Ichigo hissed.

“Shit. Touchy,” Grimmjow said.

Ichigo heard his bed depress under his weight, and he glanced back to see Grimmjow had sprawled out in the square of sunshine cutting across his bed. He might have complained for the sake of complaining, but he left his legs dangling off the edge, so he really didn’t have a reason.

Looking back down at his book he read the same line over and over, processing it, and also not. It echoed around his head, blocked by the simple fact Grimmjow was right behind him.

_ “Our revels now are ended…” _

Too much time had passed to answer Grimmjow’s question, but Ichigo decided he wanted to. “Busy doing Rukia’s job for her. Busy saving her life. Busy trying not to get killed for doing it. Busy bringing Inoue home, fighting you, fighting Aizen, killing Ginjou, fighting the Quincies...Busy.”

“You sound bitter.”

“Maybe I am,” Ichigo admitted, “I don’t know.”

“Those fuckin shinigami think of you as a hero. Won’t shut the fuck up about you and how fucking great you are.”

Ichigo muttered, “_ You _ sound bitter.”

“Maybe I am,” he growled.

“Why?” Ichigo asked.

“You tell me first.”

Ichigo let his book flip closed, falling back in his chair. He twirled a pen in his hand, restless, knee bouncing, and stared at the corner of his room like it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Eight years...and all I have are nightmares and the promise that when I finally keel over and die, I’ll have lifetimes of following orders.”

Grimmjow shifted on the bed behind him, then said, “Thought you liked those pricks.”

“Some of them I consider to be friends. Close friends. But I spent most of those eight years opposing them. I lost my power for a year, and they were done with me. Dropped me like a hot rock.”

“You were powerless? Fuck off.”

Ichigo looked back at him, brows drawn tight. “You think I’m lying.”

The tendons in his neck stood out when Grimmjow lifted his head to glare at him. “How the fuck did you get it back then?”

Ichigo dropped the pencil. He watched it roll under his desk and stop up against the wall. He sighed. “Long story. Ask someone else.”

The arrancar snorted, the sounded loaded with derision. So what if Grimmjow didn’t believe him?

“Your turn,” Ichigo said.

“Forgot the question,” Grimmjow lied.

“No you didn't.”

“Tsk…” Grimmjow shifted again, lifting his arms to fold them behind his head. “They all talk a big game and they’ve never even fucking met you. Don’t know what a self-serving prick you are.”

Ouch. Was he really getting fucking bullied in his own bedroom? How stupid. “What have I done to make you think that?”

“You look at me like you’re better, like I’m some weakling you need to protect.”

He kept saying that, and while the latter was true, Ichigo wasn’t so sure the first was. “I don’t think I’m better than you.”

“But you think you can beat me,” Grimmjow snarled. “Like I’m an obstacle.” 

Now he was getting worked up, and Ichigo had no idea why. “I probably could,” Ichigo started.

“Prick.”

“Let me finish! You threatened my friends once, nearly killed me and plenty of others. Of course I look at you like that. You might be an enemy again, and I’ll just have to beat you. I can’t think about what’ll happen if I lose. I won’t lose.” Grimmjow didn’t say anything, so Ichigo kept talking. “You’re strong, Grimmjow, and maybe just a little crazy. But…” But what, Ichigo?” He exhaled sharply through his teeth, pondering how to put his feelings into words. “You’re not a bad guy. I know I’m not supposed to enjoy fighting someone who’d kill Inoue just to make the fight good, but I enjoyed that fight, you actually made me admit it.” He scoffed. “I forgot my point.”

“You’re wrong,” Grimmjow muttered. “I knew you’d protect the girl, I knew she was never in any danger.”

Ichigo glanced back. That seemed true. 

These were bad thoughts to have...they were allies _ now _, but would they always be allies? Maybe, maybe not.

“Don’t look at me like that, Kurosaki. Yer bummin’ me out.”

Frowning again, Ichigo said, “Lose the shades.”

“No.”

“Why? You scared?”

“_ No _.” More forceful.

Ichigo tried a different approach. He began to guess. “What did Kisuke do to you? Did you lose your eyelashes? Did you lose an eye? Gross. Maybe you’ve just got a bad rash and you’re embarrassed. Did you finally get cat eyes? Nah that’s actually cool.”

The blush that spread across Grimmjow’s cheeks could have been from embarrassment or anger, or even both, but needling him actually worked. The arrancar sat bolt upright and tore off the shades. “Happy now, Kurosaki?!”

Ichigo’s eyes widened. “Your estigma! They’re yellow!” He damn near fell off the chair to get a closer look. “That’s it? Really?”

Grimmjow swayed back when he leaned in close, and the color changed, shifting to a deep shade of pink. Ichigo’s eyes widened in curiosity, blurting. “It changed!”

“What color are they now?” Grimmjow asked, sounding defensive.

“Pinkish red...now they’re redder. Like a dark red.” The change was so sudden, stark against pale skin. “Why are they changing?”

Grimmjow clenched his jaw, lips drawn into a tight line, and Ichigo’s eyes skipped back to his eyes. He was close. Really close. He could even see Grimmjow’s eyes weren’t just a solid blue, but had little flecks of bright teal in them. A blush crept onto Ichigo’s face and he pushed back, asking, “Do the colors mean something?”

Grimmjow just stared at him, looking tense and defensive. What would Grimmjow not want him to know? The arrancar kept everyone at arm’s length. He wasn’t sure if it was an arrancar thing or a Grimmjow thing, but it was probably a combination of both. He guessed, “They’re not changing with your emotions, are they?”

The arrancar tensed up even more. Ichigo’s eyes widened again. _ Oh my God _.

Grimmjow went to put the shades back, and Ichigo’s hand snapped out to stop him. Something close to panic flashed on Grimmjow’s face, and Ichigo’s grip tightened. His heart was beating so hard he swore Grimmjow could hear it. Why was this so scary? What was he even afraid of? “What does red mean?” Ichigo asked.

Grimmjow swallowed, he saw the bob in his throat. Was he nervous too? The arrancar’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “What do you think it means?”

Hate. Derision. Disgust. 

Ichigo’s grip on Grimmjow’s wrist loosened, unsure that he wanted to know. The arrancar went off about how badly he wanted to fight, but beyond that was just a string of insults. He talked about how much he hated shinigami. He was half of one, that must mean he hated him too. He knew he was terrible at hiding his feelings, he was a terrible liar. He let go and leaned back off the bed. Or he tried to. Grimmjow got a fistful of his shirt, yanking him back down to the bed. No running then. 

The shades stayed off, and Grimmjow watched him, expression guarded. “What do you think it means?” Grimmjow asked again. It almost sounded like he didn’t know what he was feeling either. 

“You hate me, don’t you?”

The arrancar’s expression hardened, and his estigma changed; orange, then yellow, orange again. “Looks that way, don’t it?”

The savage swaths of color along his eyes changed back to red and stayed there. “Got a lot of feelings about you, but I don’t think a single one of ‘em is hate.”

“What’s red mean?” Ichigo asked. His voice sounded small, which pissed him off. This was _ his _ room, _ his _ question, so why did he feel like he was the one backed into a corner?

Grimmjow’s eyes narrowed, warm light making his eyes sparkle with depth he’d never been still enough to see before. The colored net in his eyes felt like a privilege to see. How many people got this close to the arrancar and lived? How many did Grimmjow drop his guard for? Maybe it was forced out of him by laws and sanctions, but he was still there on his bed, looking at him. 

And then he wasn’t looking. Grimmjow’s lips were on his own, tentative, soft...what…

It was so brief, and Grimmjow pulled back, fingers uncurling from his shirt. “That’s what it means,” Grimmjow said.

Ichigo reached for his lips, stopped himself, and his tongue darted out to lick them. That was almost worse. “You kissed me.”

“Yeah, that’s typically what that’s called,” Grimmjow snarked.

Ichigo blinked. “But…”

“I don’t hate you.” Those words were spoken with a hint of regret, his estigma flickering back to orange.

Ichigo realized he was half in Grimmjow’s lap, which he wasn’t ready to think about in the slightest. He moved, sitting on the bed next to him, the arrancar’s leg almost flush to his own. He blushed, feeling every ounce the virgin he was. He knew the rules for a girl, but what were the rules for a deadly arrancar? _ A deadly arrancar who’s only on your bed at all because of a tenuous treaty. _

“Talk, Kurosaki.”

That sounded desperate. Was Grimmjow scared? Ichigo glanced back, seeing his estigma were yellow. Was that fear? Anxiety? He was cheating...no wonder Grimmjow had been hiding behind shades. “I’m thinking,” he said.

He was. That was true. He was desperately nervous, and all he had were questions. “We barely know each other.”

“Do I know your favorite fucking color? No. But I know who you are, Kurosaki.”

“Do you?” He hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic, but he wasn’t going to take it back. “We spar sometimes, Grimmjow, but you never stick around, we don’t _ talk _.”

“We ain’t the talkin’ type.”

Grimmjow wasn’t wrong. He didn’t talk about himself, not usually. People didn’t ask, but Grimmjow had. He’d talked just now. Was he making excuses? “How long?”

“Dunno. Awhile, probably.”

“Probably? You spend just about all your time around me reminding me how bad you’re gonna kick the shit outta me, or how much you can’t stand me.”

Grimmjow just about shouted over him to cut him off. “And I don’t say the nice stuff! I feel like a fucking idiot. What am I supposed to do? Compliment you?”

“I mean, that’s sort of how it works? What am I supposed to think if all you do is berate me?” 

“I’m here, ain’t I?!”

Ichigo blinked at him._ He was there. He was there a lot. _ He fell silent, forgetting about the words Grimmjow had said, and tried to recall his actions instead. The ex-Espada often turned his back to him, laughed with him, held back for the sake of fun.

His brows drew tight in realization. Shit.

There wasn’t a week that went by that Grimmjow hadn’t come around asking for him. Lately anyways. Ichigo looked forward to it, he’d started to take it for granted. If the arrancar never came back, what would he have of his old life? Nothing but nightmares. 

Eyes lifting from the floor, Ichigo stared at Grimmjow intently, enough that the arrancar frowned in uncertainty. “_ Kurosaki… _” He sounded like he wanted something. An answer, maybe? 

It had been a while since Ichigo had felt so uneasy. He had a choice here, and the options complicated everything. He could lose a sparring partner, a friend. Now or later, but it was likely to happen. He tried to forget the complicated parts. What did he want? 

Lifting his hand to Grimmjow’s chest, his estigma melted red. Lust? Desire? Was it just wishful thinking to hope someone might love him? So many questions, but doing nothing answered none of them. 

He pushed Grimmjow flat on the bed, and the arrancar let him, squinting in the light of the sun. His pupils contracted, laying open an expanse of blue. Unusual eyes, a soft color for someone with so much passion. He shifted, getting more comfortable on top of him. He threw his leg over his waist, straddling him. 

The arrancar let him do it, lifting a hand to his waist. Ichigo tensed under his hand, his thumb wrinkling his shirt, smoothing over muscle. No one had ever touched him there before, never gently. It almost tickled, but Grimmjow grew bolder, his grip tightening as he traced his ribs. Those hands had stripped flesh from his bones, had spilled blood and killed, but now they were purposefully gentle.

All of this was new, and from the uneasy look on Grimmjow’s face, this was shockingly new for him too. Neither wanted to admit inexperience. Ichigo knew Grimmjow well enough to know the arrancar would associate hesitation and lack of confidence with weakness.

Grimmjow might have led with a kiss, but Ichigo didn’t think he could get that far. Touching without an intent to harm was hard enough without getting so close. Sliding his hand up Grimmjow’s chest, his fingers bunched fabric, skipping over the hem of his jumper to skirt across bare skin. He was so warm, skin so soft. That must be from the hierro, there was no way a warrior like Grimmjow would get away with being so soft otherwise. Ichigo didn’t think his skin was nearly so soft, even with Inoue to heal him. Thanks to her, he had no scars. 

Fingers tracing the smooth and savaged scar on his chest, Ichigo felt a tug of jealousy. _ He had no scars _.

“What’s that look for?” Grimmjow asked.

“What?”

“I finally get to touch you and you look sad as shit.”

Ichigo chuckled. “Stupid and unnecessary jealousy.”

“For what?”

“Scars.”

Grimmjow’s expression grew guarded again, and Ichigo wished he’d lied. Until Grimmjow spoke. “Wish I didn’t have that one.”

“Why?”

“Reminds me of the time your buddies killed all my friends.” He smiled, but he looked deeply sad. Ichigo wasn’t sure why he was smiling at all. “Don’t go and pity me for that. It still reminds me of you. Cheeky fucker, you went and ripped right through my hierro, showed me a good time.”

Ichigo’s hand had traveled higher, exploring along the base of his throat. “A good time? You’re crazy.”

“I’m crazy?” Grimmjow’s brows raised. “You spar with an arrancar for fun on the weekend, and thought it would be a good idea to pin me to your bed in your _ human body _.”

That was a good point. “You kissed me first.”

“Cause you’re a stupid asshole,” Grimmjow growled. “I’ve been flirting with you for weeks, you big idiot.”

“You just called me names, that’s not flirting!”

The arrancar rolled his eyes. “Flirting ain’t always verbal. Ya didn’t notice all the times I touched you, you _ big idiot _. I ain’t good with patience.”

“What?”

“Kurosaki, I can’t count how many times I pinned you to a hard surface, or let you do the same.”

A blush spread like fire from the bridge of Ichigo’s nose to his ears. “Wait, you were-”

“Why do you think Kisuke tricked me with this stupid estigma gimmick. He was setting us up. Fucking asshole.”

Ichigo paled. “Oh my God, he set us up?”

Grimmjow cringed. “He noticed, he offered to help, and I guess I’m also a fucking idiot, cause I agreed.”

Ichigo covered his face with his hands and groaned, “Oh God, how am I supposed to face him now?” 

“You think I feel better about it?”

Ichigo abruptly slapped his hands down on either side of Grimmjow’s head, startling the arrancar. “Why did he help you?”

“What is this? An interrogation?”

“Grimmjow!”

“_ Fuck _, relax. He said he was worried. Said you’ve been a sad sack of shit.”

“He didn’t say that.”

“Fine, he said you were _ depressed _,” he sneered.

_ And Kisuke noticed. How mortifying _ . “So he was gonna set me up with my _ sparring partner? _ Are you serious?”

Grimmjow snapped, “Well, does it change anything?”

Ichigo thought about it. He still liked where he was sat, he still liked the possibility of exploring whatever this new thing was. He scowled. “No...no, not really.” He sat back on Grimmjow’s lap, scrubbing his hand through his hair. He looked out the window and sighed, “This isn’t how I imagined my afternoon going.”

“Kurosaki, I still ain’t sure if this is even mutual or not.” The arrancar sounded annoyed, but beneath that, Ichigo caught another emotion.

Ichigo looked back at him, brows furrowed. His estigma were a deep violet, and he’d looked into those eyes enough to see the loneliness the arrancar tried to hide. Lifting his hand to his mask, his fingers tracing the smoothed ridge above sharp teeth. Grimmjow’s hand on his hip tightened, nearly painful.

Ichigo said, “I wouldn’t be sitting in your lap if it wasn’t mutual, Grimmjow. But…” He saw the arrancar steeling himself for rejection, but there was no kind way to say this. “We take it slow.”

The arracar let out a sigh of relief, closing his eyes for a small moment. Ichigo hadn’t realized how tense he’d been, how much weight he’d been putting on his words. He opened his eyes, less guarded than before. “How slow is slow?”

“I don’t know,” Ichigo admitted. “But I can tell you now, I don’t think I have the guts to kiss you.”

Grimmjow chuckled. “Scared?”

“You were my first kiss,” Ichigo complained.

Shock spread across Grimmjow’s face. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

Grimmjow whistled, impressed. “I caught a virgin.”

Ichigo slapped his shoulder. “You didn’t catch shit.”

“I kissed you first.”

“I didn’t even know you liked me!”

The arrancar smirked, pleased with himself. “So if you did, you’d make a move first? Bullshit.”

Ichigo blushed, flustered. “I don’t see _ you _ on _ my _ lap.”

Grimmjow’s hand slipped down to his ass to squeeze. “Maybe you’re right where I want you?”

Backhanding his shoulder, Ichigo scoffed through his blush. “Shut it, cat.”

“I don’t see you movin’.” 

“Maybe I like it here!”

Grimmjow looked surprised, then smirked, the look absolutely sinful. “Well, I’m pretty comfortable.”

“Congratulations.”

They both stared at each other, then Ichigo broke and laughed. “Y’know, I think I could go for a nap.”

“With me?” Grimmjow mock gasped. “The rumors are gonna fly, Kurosaki.”

Folding his arms, Ichigo flopped down on the bed between Grimmjow and the window. “Probably already are. ‘M used to it.”

“Shinigami and an arrancar. What a scandal.”

Ichigo got comfortable on his shoulder, and Grimmjow’s arm was pinned under his side, on the small of his back. It was weird to be lying on his so-called enemy, but it was also fun, and thrilling. “I’m not a shinigami. I’m a Quincy, hollow, shinigami...thing.”

“Freak,” Grimmjow said. Somehow it was endearing.

“Fuck you,” Ichigo grumbled.

“I mean, that’s why I’m here.”

Ichigo’s blush was dizzying, he was glad Grimmjow couldn’t see it. “Asshole.”

“Can’t deny that.”

It was uncomfortably hot, Ichigo felt like he was going to spontaneously combust, he had no idea how the arrancar could be so warm, but he realized he was actually happy. Sweaty, but happy.

The cicadas screamed, the sun blazed, and Ichigo slept, wrapped up in the arms of an arrancar.

An enemy, an unlikely ally, a rival, a friend, and now...


End file.
